


Peanut Butter Cheesecake

by Duskdog



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 21:27:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9787652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duskdog/pseuds/Duskdog
Summary: Why should a man be lonely on Valentine's Day just because he happens to be a super-intelligent gorilla? Or an aging knight who bakes when he's bored?





	

**Author's Note:**

> After seeing Winston deliberately excluded from so many Valentine's Day activities in the fandom, I felt inspired to give the poor guy a little love. And who has more love to give than Reinhardt? It doesn't always have to be about sex, after all. (In my head, Reinhardt/food is a thing, but that's a story for another time.)

The relative silence that enveloped the Watchpoint on the eve of Valentine’s Day was at the same time both new and familiar to Winston. For so long after the disbanding, it had been only himself and Athena and the soft hum of electricity -- lonely, to be certain, but peaceful and conducive to science, at least. Since the recall, things had been much livelier -- almost a bit  _ too _ much so for Winston, who was no longer accustomed to dozens of footsteps in the hallways and guns on the training range and laughter and music from the domestic quarters. It had been a good change overall, though, and it was nice to have these signs of life in the place he had come to call home, with the people that he had come to think of as his family.   
  
Tonight, though, it was quiet again, and the realization brought that old loneliness with it. Nearly everyone was out and about -- either on dates, or, in the case of a few, at some sort of anti-Valentine’s singles party -- and those few who had stayed in mostly seemed intent on their privacy, which Winston was happy to give them. Public displays of affection made him feel a little awkward, truth be told, though he’d never be so uncaring as to say so out loud when his teammates were obviously enjoying themselves.   
  
He was doing some adjustments to his tesla cannon and trying not to think too hard about anything else when the doors to his lab slid open.   
  
“WINSTON!” Reinhardt greeted everyone the same way: as if he knew them well and had known them forever, and loudly enough that he was impossible to miss or ignore. “Not spending this fine evening  _ alone _ , are you?”   
  
If it had been anyone else, Winston might have suspected that he was being mocked. But it was  _ Reinhardt _ , who didn’t have a cruel bone in his body as near as anyone who knew him could tell, and so he willed himself to relax.   
  
“Ah…” Winston turned in his chair to regard his guest, clearing his throat. “This may come as a shock to you, Reinhardt, but… I am a  _ gorilla _ .”   
  
“ _ HA _ !” The old knight set a large tray down on the lab table (seemingly oblivious to Winston’s rush to move the tesla cannon and other assorted tools and pieces away now that his table had been commandeered) and reached out with one long arm to pull in a chair for himself. He pressed on it instinctively, testing the strength to make sure it could support his not-inconsiderable weight (he needn’t have worried -- the lab furniture was built to support a full-grown gorilla), and, once satisfied that it would, sat down. “Indeed you are, my friend, indeed you are. But that’s no reason to be lonely, eh? Look -- I’ve baked you something!”   
  
Winston blinked down at the tray.  _ Baked _ him something? But there it was: some sort of chocolate-covered cake with nuts sprinkled artfully in a ring around the outer edge, along with a coffeepot, two mugs, two small plates, and a small assortment of silverware. He knew that Reinhardt had always enjoyed cooking for the team as a sort of stress relief as well as a hobby, and that this desire seemed stronger than ever since the Recall. (He recalled Mercy mentioning that she suspected their oldest member was trying to reassure himself of his usefulness to the team in desperate defiance of the looming threat of age-related decline, but Winston hadn’t thought much about it since.) But  _ no one _ had ever baked  _ Winston _ something -- not specifically him, anyway -- and he wasn’t really sure what to think.   
  
“It’s a peanut butter cheesecake,” Reinhardt continued proudly, gesturing with one hand, as if Winston’s silence wasn’t bordering on painfully awkward by this point.    
  
“I… Reinhardt… I don’t know what to say. I mean…” He adjusted his glasses -- a nervous habit. “Why?”   
  
“ _ Why _ ?” Reinhardt echoed. “Why  _ not _ ? Everyone’s out. I was bored, I wanted to bake. Baking alone is fine, but  _ eating _ alone is depressing. So I thought to myself:  _ Reinhardt, who do you know who deserves a cheesecake? _ That’s a trick question.  _ Everyone  _ deserves cheesecake. So I asked myself:  _ Reinhardt, who do you know who deserves cheesecake the  _ **_most_ ** _? _ ” He shrugged. “And so here I am!”   
  
Winston still wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, but he couldn’t deny that the cheesecake looked delicious. The smell of peanut butter was strong, and he wondered if he had altered his recipe to use extra, just for  _ him _ .   
  
“You’re doing a very difficult job,” Reinhardt said, his tone shifting, and Winston was startled to realize that the man’s one good eye -- as blue and full of joy and vitality as the day they’d first met -- was focused very seriously on him for the first time in the conversation. “Leading Overwatch… it was a never-ending and ultimately thankless job, even back when fame and public esteem came along with it, and now there’s not even that to make it more bearable. Leading Overwatch destroyed some people that I loved very much.”   
  
He looked away for a moment, those eyes going misty, then cleared his throat and looked back at Winston again, reaching out with one large hand to grasp his shoulder.   
  
“If I was a better man, I’d do it myself. If I had the… the  _ restraint _ , the  _ brains _ …” He laughed. It didn’t sound forced, but perhaps a bit sad. “I don’t always make the best decisions, ja? I can lead a squad on the field, react to the  _ moment _ , but I was never meant for the big-picture planning of large-scale command. What you’re doing now, it’s  _ hard _ , and it shouldn’t be your burden to bear. I want you to know that I  _ know _ . And that you’re doing a fine job, and that everyone appreciates you -- even if none of them bake a cheesecake half as good as  _ mine _ .”   
  
He grinned brightly, hand still on Winston’s shoulder.   
  
Winston, overwhelmed suddenly, unused to such seriousness from Reinhardt and such compliments and physical attention from  _ anyone _ other than perhaps Lena, took a deep breath and smiled back.   
  
“Thank you, Reinhardt.” He reached up and grasped the older man’s shoulder, wanting to return the gesture, wanting him to  _ know _ his gratitude was sincere. “That means a lot to me. Especially coming from you. I hope I can do you all proud.”   
  
Reinhardt laughed -- and, just like that, he was back to his usual self, as if his demeanor had never changed at all.    
  
“Besides,” the old man said, sitting back and flexing one enormous bicep, “it would be an absolute  _ tragedy _ for the two biggest, buffest, most  _ eligible _ bachelors in Overwatch to do absolutely  _ nothing _ on Valentine’s Day, wouldn’t it? Share cheesecake with me. I don’t care what Brigette says -- it isn’t making me  _ fat _ , it’s  _ fuel _ for this glorious engine!” He thumped himself on the chest.   
  
“Well… if we eat the whole thing, then she’ll never have to know there was ever a cheesecake at all,” Winston pointed out reasonably, picking up the knife.   
  
“ _ Ah ha ha, devious! _ I  _ like _ it! Split it up the middle, sir, and tell no one we’ve sinned!”   
  
Athena, without being asked, piped in some cheerful music that she hoped was suitable for a very manly cheesecake party. There was no need to mention to either of them that she had been the one to slip the recipe for extra-peanut-butter cheesecake into Reinhardt’s recipe tablet in the first place, was there?


End file.
